Transience
by faded-enigma
Summary: Because sometimes, "always" doesn't exist. Set in the "Hunger Games" world, slight AU, canon for everything before the epilogue.
1. Prologue

Author's Note: My first foray into the Hunger Games fiction world. It's an AU, but set in the book universe. Mostly canon for everything that comes before the epilogue. This bunny hopped into my head and stuck around until I finally decided to get off my lazy butt and start writing again. It'll be a novella, 5-6 parts most likely. It's an observational piece that explores what happens when the concept of "always" doesn't work out. I have several different endings in mind, but haven't made any final decisions. I suppose it will depend on the tone of the story as I write it and on how readers feel as they read it. Enjoy! :) Un-beta'd. Mistakes are mine. Constructive criticism is most welcome.

* * *

"This is ridiculous." She purses her lips and kicks one of the bags by her feet. The look on her face is petulant, child-like. And it almost makes him smile.

Almost.

But he doesn't. Because absolutely nothing about this is funny.

"I offered to be the one, Katniss," he says softly, pushing off from the doorframe he's leaning on. He straightens and gazes at her wearily. "I can still go, if you want."

"No!" Her voice is sharp and she glares at him with rage, the fire in her eyes blazing bright. "I don't care about who keeps the house, Peeta. I care that we're even doing this. That you're kicking me out!" She punctuates the last word with a hard push against his chest. He catches her hands and moves to place them gently back at her sides.

"Katniss," he starts calmly. "I'm not kicking you out. I'm protecting you." She lets out a grunt in response and examines her bags, refusing to look at him. "Look, we always said we'd protect each other. That's what I'm doing."

"We also said we'd be together forever," Katniss hisses. "You can't choose to keep one promise and break the other, Peeta."

He sighs and tries to end the conversation by bending over to pick up her bags, hoping to take them to the waiting car. His lack of response bothers her and she shoves him again, this time sending him toppling down onto the bottom step of the home.

She seems to regret her actions immediately, but her anger and stubbornness keep her rooted in place. He can feel her watching him as he tries to stand, the anger coiling deep in his gut. His bad leg gives beneath him and she finally relents, rushing forward to help him. He pushes her hands away as he continues to pull himself up using the side railing. When he's upright, he slithers forward until his face is mere inches from hers.

"Peeta—" she starts, trying to apologize, but he cuts her off.

"Do you think I _want _this?" His voice is low and he can feel the heat rise into his chest. "I want 'always'. I need 'forever', but it's not going to happen. I'm trying to do right by you. Why can't you see that?" Pulling back, he attempts to reign in the anger before he gets worse. He picks up her belongings and tries again to get them to the car, but she pulls them out of his grasp and throws them to the side.

"No! This isn't doing right by me. This is the worst possible thing you could do to me!" She's shouting now, her voice cracking from the strain. "You can't just wake up one morning and decide that we can't be together anymore! You don't get to make stupid decisions like that, Peeta."

"Yes, I _do_ get to decide one morning," he snaps sharply. "I get to decide when I do _this_." He pulls her hand roughly towards him and yanks down the sleeve of her sweater.

They both look at the dark welt on her wrist and Katniss tries to blink back the tears forming in her eyes. She shakes her head and tries to speak, but cries out when he places his other hand gently against her side, where he knows a large bruise has formed. The tears are falling freely now as he lets her go and takes a step back.

"And what about this?" he asks bitterly, pointing to the bandaged gash on the right side of her face. "I get to decide, Katniss. When I do horrible things like this, I get to decide."

She shakes her head emphatically and attempts to wrap her arms around him. He sidesteps her and she's left holding empty space.

"Peeta," she begins, her voice almost pleading, "this wasn't you. You know it wasn't you."

"You were hurt by my hand, Katniss!" he replies harshly, digging his palms into his forehead as though he is trying to push the thoughts out of his mind. "I can't trust myself anymore."

Peeta sits himself down on the stairs and runs his hands through his hair. There's a tight feeling in his chest and it bubbles up into his throat as a choked sob. When he gazes up at her again, his eyes are rimmed in red. Katniss kneels until she's level with him and rests her hands on his knees.

"Peeta." Her voice is soft, but stern. "I've done awful things to you, too. I've bruised you. I've hurt you. The nightmares. They make me crazy and I take it out on you." She leans forward so her head rests on his chest. "We hurt each other, Peeta…in ways we can't control. But we're better together. The Games taught us that."

He shakes his head in disagreement. "It's not the same and you know it. They trained me to destroy you. One of these days, I'm not going to be able to fight it, Katniss. I'll kill you."

"Peeta, I can handle myself. I'm _not _afraid when I'm with you." She's silent for a moment as she lets her words sink in. "You're being ridiculous."

The blonde-haired man sighs, lifts her head between his hands, and places a lingering kiss on her forehead. "We can't be together, Katniss."

The sudden intake of breath is sharp as she pulls back; the look on her face is a clear indication that she wants nothing more than to hit him.

"You are an idiot, Peeta Mellark." She jerks out of his grasp and stands up, looking down at him with disgust. "I know our lives haven't been easy, but we fought hard for what we have and you're just throwing us away."

"I love you, Katniss," he murmurs. "Please trust that I'm only doing good by you."

"There is nothing good about this!" she exclaims. "I want to stay, Peeta."

"I can leave, then. I'll move to the other house in the Seam. You can stay here." He moves to head into the house to gather his things.

"That's not what I meant and you know it," she says heatedly. "I want to stay here with you."

"That's not going to happen, Katniss," he whispers as he turns back to face her. "I'm sorry." Brushing past her, he picks up the bags she had thrown before. She furiously pulls them away from him and grabs the other forgotten satchel by the banister of the stairs.

"I don't want your help," she snaps, stomping over to the car. "And you can keep this stupid house."

"Katniss—"

"It stinks of you," she growls as she throws everything into the backseat of the district's service car. Before getting into the passenger side, she turns to face him a final time. "It's funny, isn't it? They still say I'm the ignorant one. The one who doesn't understand love. The tables have turned, haven't they, Peeta?" The laugh that follows is humorless and it hurts him at his very core.

She throws the ring she'd been wearing on her left ring finger in his direction. "Take that. I don't want it anymore." With that, she slams the door and quickly relays the directions so she can leave the place she used to call home.

Peeta follows the car with his gaze until it is completely out of sight. When he is sure that she can no longer see him, he moves quickly to the area where she threw the ring and falls to his knees in search of the small piece of gold. His hands dig around the dirt frantically as he desperately tries to find it.

After what seems like hours, he finally locates the glimmering piece hidden underneath a bush. Picking it up, he gently wipes off the debris with a clean part of his shirt. He moves into the house and lays the ring carefully on the counter, almost as though he is afraid to damage it. Undoing the clasp of the chain around his neck, he loops it through the ring and puts it back on.

He closes the front door of the empty house and slumps against it, allowing his legs to slide until he's sitting on the carpet. He clasps the ring in his hand and brings it to his lips to kiss it.

_Katniss is gone._

His heart drops to his stomach every time the thought runs through his mind. Sitting here in the suffocating silence, he cocoons himself in the knowledge that he is doing the right thing for her. It does little to give him reprieve from the pain in his chest.

He clenches the ring and kisses it again. It is all he has left.

* * *

_I'm currently in search of a beta. I'm hoping for one who will not only look out for grammatical issues, but will also be willing to discuss story flow and ideas with me. If you're interested or can recommend a good beta, please let me know. The beta search on gives me a headache and I lost contact with the ones who used to beta my HP stories :)_


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: Thank you for the reviews I've received so far for this story. I appreciate the kind words. On to the next one! I'm looking at an update a week, give or take a few days. I took artistic liberties with some parts of this chapter. You'll see what I mean once you start reading. Still un-beta'd, so mistakes are _still _my own. Please read/review/enjoy. Thank you :)

* * *

_One week prior…_

"This was not part of the deal when we got married, Mellark." Katniss squints discriminatingly at the vegetables sitting on her cutting board and pokes at the ugly, uneven pieces. "I would hunt and you would cook. _That_ was the agreement." She pokes again at the carrots and sighs when she looks at the bowl next to the board. It's filled with the vegetables Peeta had already prepped, all the pieces cut into the same size and shape.

Peeta glances over at his wife and swallows the laugh that threatens to bubble out of his throat. "You can perfectly butcher the hide off a rabbit, but you can't cut carrots uniformly?" He grabs the knife from her hand and deftly begins to chop the items on the board.

"It's different. You don't have to worry about _uniformity_ with animal hides," she scoffs.

He looks up and sends her a playful wink, his hands never stopping its movements.

Katniss clucks in exasperation and shifts to take the knife back. "Now you're just showing off!"

The blonde chuckles and places a fond kiss upon her hairline. "I have to do _some_ things better than you, Katniss. This relationship has to be on equal footing."

She shakes her head in annoyance, but Peeta doesn't miss the way her lip curls upward in a half smile.

A loud ding from the oven indicates the set temperature and Peeta quickly tosses a tray of cheese buns inside. Kicking the door shut with his foot, he turns back to watch her work. He smiles tenderly at the endearing way she worries her lower lip in concentration. For years, he'd dreamed about days like this.

There's a strange freedom that comes with the mundane. It makes him feel good. Normal.

"Besides, now that your leg has put you out of commission from hunting, you have to be useful somehow," he adds playfully, eliciting a dark scowl that only Katniss that conjure.

"Once I'm healed, we'll see who's useful," she grumbles, jiggling the offending leg, as though to shake out the damage.

Peeta grimaces at the memory of what caused her injuries. Weeks before, she had slipped in the forest during a routine hunting trip. The rainy weekend had left the ground saturated with water and laden with mud. Loose foundations and an uncovered tree root had caused a bad ankle sprain that even Katniss couldn't shrug off.

When the pain started to journey up her leg, Peeta had immediately whisked her to the Capitol, despite her vocal protests. Doctors confirmed that a blood clot had travelled up to her calf and gave her a dose of drugs intravenously.

Katniss had balked when it was suggested that she stay for 7-10 days for treatment. Aware of her intense displeasure, especially after she tried to pull out the needle out of her arm, Peeta was able to convince the doctors to release her.

They were sent home to District 12 with a package containing several medicine-filled syringes and a bottle of small pink pills. They suggested she remain off her feet to let the sprain heal, and while Peeta could never force her to lie still, even she had to agree that she was in no condition to head back to the woods.

Another frustrated grunt pulls back him back to reality. Katniss seems to have given up on the carrots and has switched to the celery, which is easier to cut. He can hear her swear under her breath, but takes no offense to her surly demeanor. Instead, he switches his focus to the meat he has browning on the stove.

With the young Mrs. Mellark incapacitated, Rory Hawthorne has taken it upon himself to make sure they are well provided for. His kills aren't as clean, but Peeta is never one to pass up rabbit.

"With Rory helping us with the hunt in exchange for extra bread, we may never need you to go back into the woods," he calls teasingly. "If that's going to be the case, you need to become much more efficient with your basic culinary skills. This meat is going to burn before you finish with those vegetables."

Katniss grumbles in response, taking his words as a challenge. Her hands start to move faster, as fast as her husband's were minutes before.

It's inevitable and almost expected when her fingers trip up and she slices deep into her left thumb. Yelping in pain, she drops the knife to the floor and grips the finger with her right hand. Peeta rushes forward and uses the towel he had over his shoulder to wrap up the gash.

"It's okay, it's okay," he says soothingly, willing her to calm down. The gaze that meets him is one full of shock and pain. He presses a kiss to the side of her mouth and squeezes the towel so that it absorbs the blood from the wound. "I'm going to pull the towel away, okay? I need to see how deep the cut is."

Katniss nods and sucks in a choked breath. "It's deep, Peeta. It feels like I almost sliced my finger off."

He thinks she may be right when he sees that the blood has already begun to seep through the thick towel. The intense red blot on the white material makes his head fuzzy and he can almost feel something crack at the base of his skull. Blinking several times to ward away the sensation, he tries to refocus on the task at hand.

His wife hisses in pain when he lifts the towel and he is surprised to find that the pressure did nothing to ebb the flow. Blood begins to pour from the wound and his brain pops again, causing a throbbing pain to shoot through his head.

"That's. Not. Normal." He's not sure if he's talking about her or himself, but it's all he can get out before his thoughts start to blur together. Faintly, he can hear Katniss talking and it takes excruciating effort to make sense of her words.

"It must be because of the medicine for the clot," she says. Confusion rattles his mind: it sounds like she's a million miles away even though she's standing right in front of him. "The doctor said it really thins out the blood."

Peeta experiences another pop and his head feels like it's going to explode. Katniss continues to focus on her hand and she's still speaking, but he can no longer process her words. He realizes that her attention is diverted. She isn't yet conscious of the fact that something is wrong.

"Katniss," he bites out, his voice stilted and distorted in his ears, "get out of the kitchen."

She stops fussing with the towel that's wrapped around her hand and looks up at him. Her hyper-vigilance diminished from the incident, she understands too late what is happening. It's of the worst luck that she has let down her guard at this moment. The hallucination will be a bad one; they both already know it.

Katniss turns to walk out of the kitchen as quickly as possible, but her leg slows her down. Peeta tries to tell her to hurry, but something snaps a final time in his head and he falls to the ground.

There is a flash of unbearable pain followed, mercifully, by an instant calm. He opens his eyes and stands upright, flexing the muscles in his arms and back to relieve the tension.

Everything around him is shiny, surrounded by a bright light.

He catches a glimpse of black in his periphery and rotates his head quickly. He can recognize the owner of the raven hair without needing to see her face. A tingle reverberates through his lower abdomen as the anger begins to well up, causing the blood to boil in his veins.

"Katniss." He doesn't bother to hide the disgust in his voice. She turns to face him, the evil glint in her eyes mocking him, ridiculing him. He moves forward until he is able to cup her cheek with his hand. Taking the time to regard her, he scrutinizes every inch of her face and her body.

"I'll never get over how hard the Capitol worked to make a mutt bitch so beautiful," he says softly, a taunting lilt in his voice. His hand moves slowly downward, snaking along her curves until it rests on her hip. He pulls her until she's flush against him, his face pressing into her neck so he can take in her scent. "They knew I'd react to you, didn't they? Fall in love with you. They made you just right. Your smell, your taste, your beauty. Perfect." He smirks and steps back, taking his hand away.

"Come to finish me off like you did my family, Sweetheart?"

The beautiful monster says nothing in response. She lifts her arm and its then that he notices the dagger that seems to have appeared out of nowhere. He counters her attack and grips her wrist, squeezing until the blade drops to the ground. The mutt bends beneath him as she tries to pull out of his grasp.

"I thought the Capitol made you extra strong." He grips the wrist tighter and feels the joint pop under his fingers. "You don't seem that strong, Katniss."

Her lips are moving, but he can't make out any words. The high-pitched hum that replaces her voice assaults his ears.

He shoves her away as hard as possible, looking on as she falls backwards, her left side catching on the edge of the counter as she hits the ground. He shakes his head to clear out the buzzing and backs away from the prone figure.

The moment of preoccupation dampens his reflexes, which allows her to stand and retrieve the dagger she had dropped. She lunges at him and brings the blade down, missing his arm by mere inches.

Peeta dives to the floor and picks up a kitchen knife he sees below one of the counters. The blood already present on the metal doesn't register in his brain. He moves towards her, ready to find a place to bury the weapon. He flicks his wrist so that the blade nestles up against the artery in her neck.

However, before he can slice the throat, a loud shrill whistle resonates in his brain. The sound is piercing and his hands quickly cover his ears to block it out.

He can hear his own voice frantically begging for him to stop, but he can't understand why. The mutt needs to die. She killed his family and she needs to die.

"Peeta!"

Her voice manages to break through the racket. Something about her inflection jabs at his insides and he throws his hands out in front of him. He can't grasp his surroundings; all he can sense is chaos.

"Stay away from me, Mutt!" he cries out as his foot slips on a puddle of water. His arms flail for balance as he falls and he can feel the blade connect with something before his head hits the counter behind him.

For a moment, he thinks he may have gone blind. He can't get rid of the darkness no matter how many times he blinks.

But a tick begins to develop in his head, a beat playing along to its own metronome. Slowly, with each tick, his vision and his reasoning begin to return.

The first coherent thought he has is that the surroundings are no longer shiny. In fact, everything is becoming horrendously clear.

Realization floods through him and he drops the knife as though it could burn him. His eyes frantically search for Katniss and when he finds her, he can't believe what he sees.

The woman he loves, his wife, is crawling slowly towards him, a long vertical cut marring her perfect face with copious amounts of blood dripping from her wound.

The grotesque scene before him makes the guilt intensify tenfold. The bile burns in the back of his throat and he swivels his head to vomit on the floor next to him. Katniss hastens her movements until she's next to him. In her hands she clutches two towels. She brings one of them gently up to his face.

"Shhh, Peeta," she coos, wiping gingerly at his mouth. "It's okay. We're okay."

He can't take this. Moments ago he almost killed her and she's sitting here, taking care of him. He shakes his head and looks down. He doesn't deserve the love in her eyes. She raises his chin with her uninjured hand until their gazes meet.

"I'm fine, Peeta. It's a flesh wound and it'll stop soon. The other one's stopped already, see?" She holds up her left hand to show the swollen finger. While the cut is visible and clearly painful, the bleeding has finally ceased. "It was bad for us today…but really, I'm all right."

She moves his hair away from his forehead and presses a long kiss to the exposed skin. The sincere touch breaks down all of his remaining defenses. Tears begin to stream down his face as he buries his head in her chest, listening to the steady heartbeat that he'd almost put an end to.

"I almost killed you," he whispers, his voice watery. "You almost died."

She shakes her head purposefully, pushing him back so he can look at her.

"No, you wouldn't have killed me, Peeta. You stopped yourself. The cut was an accident. We both know that."

"What if I couldn't stop myself?" he mutters softly. "What then?"

"Then I'd fight back," she answers firmly, her gaze moving to the bow and arrow she keeps in the corner of the kitchen. "But I'll never have to, Peeta. I trust you."

The last three words feel like pin pricks in his heart. How can she trust him? In his hallucinations, his venom-addled brain marks her as a mutt, but he can only look to himself to see a real Capitol experiment. They've ruined him, turned him into an awful creature. Someone who could deign to hurt the person he loved more than anything else.

Peeta's tears stop abruptly and he quickly wipes away the moisture on his face. He's made his decision. He slides away from her and pulls himself up until he's standing. He hastily turns off the oven and the stove before making his way into the living room. She follows him, the other towel now held up to her face.

"What are you doing?" she asks, seemingly concerned over his abrupt actions.

He picks up the phone and begins to dial a string of numbers. "I'm calling the town healer. We need to stitch up your cuts and make sure I didn't break any bones." The words seem even more disgusting as they flow from his mouth. He's an abuser. He's a monster.

"Peeta," she begins in warning, "I don't want a healer to come here. I can stitch myself up or you can do it for me. I don't want the town to know our business."

Peeta laughs mirthlessly as he waits for the person on the other line to answer.

"They already know our business, Katniss. We're the town's official freak show." A woman's voice drones from the receiver and Peeta politely dictates his request before hanging up.

"Call her back." Peeta can hear the edge in her voice and he knows she's getting angry. "Tell her not to come, Peeta."

"No, Katniss." His reply is relaxed and soothing even though he feels like he may be ripping apart at the seams. "We need to get you fixed up."

"Then why can't you do it?" she snaps crossly. "You've stitched me up before."

"Because I just can't!" His voice is harsh in his ears and he takes a deep breath to calm himself. How can he make her understand that he can't touch her right now? He's afraid of himself; he's afraid of his own body. The hallucinations could start again at any moment.

Katniss's demeanor visibly changes with comprehension and leans in to place a chaste kiss on his lips. Though he doesn't respond with the enthusiasm she hopes for, he accepts it.

Peeta pulls back and goes to clean up the mess he'd made in the kitchen. He knows he's hurt her with his coldness, but he has to stop himself from doing what he wants.

He wants to deepen the kiss, to hold her, to take care of her, and to never let her go. But he can't do that after what just happened. He's going to have to stay away from her. This time was too close.

Next time…he didn't even want to think of what could happen next time.

"You know we're going to be okay, right?" Katniss's voice is soft behind him. "We'll just have to be more careful with the blood from now on. I'm okay, Peeta."

He doesn't say anything at first. He just continues to mop at the vomit on the tiled floor. When he finally speaks, he doesn't even turn to look at her.

"Katniss, you know I love you, right?" He hears her move behind him as she wraps her arms around his waist and rests her head between his shoulder blades.

"Of course, Peeta." There's a hint of resolution in her voice, as though she feels like they are fine now. Like the badness is done and gone. "If there is one thing I'm absolutely sure of, it's that."

He nods slowly and lets out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. His hands go to his waist to cover hers and he gives them a soft squeeze. A picture of his fingers almost breaking her wrist flashes before his eyes and he resists the urge to vomit again. Using his thumb, he rubs soothing circles along her arm.

"Always remember that," he murmurs quietly. "No matter what…don't forget that." Her cheek rubs along his back as she nods her assent. He slowly leans his head back until it rests on top of hers. His eyes close and he takes the time to relish the warmth of her body against his.

They stay like that until the healer arrives.

* * *

_I apologize for a slight continuity issue. I mentioned in the prologue that Katniss stomped to the car. Considering her injury, she can't really stomp anywhere. I will be much more careful going forward. _

_Details about Katniss's injury are a relatively accurate description of possible blood clot causes and treatments. The intravenous drug and the medicine in the syringe is Heparin. The pink pills are Warfarin. I took a bit of artistic license in writing the scene involving Peeta's hijack-induced hallucination. I know it's not how Suzanne Collins wrote out the hallucinations, but I feel like this is the closest I can get to creating evil!Peeta without completely destroying canon!Peeta. I am fascinated with what Peeta would be like if he was "bad". I mean, I am toying with the idea of writing an AU of that nature, but that's not for this fic ;) I do apologize if you don't like my depiction, but that's what creative writing is for, right? To let out the ideas a person has rolling around her head. _


	3. Chapter 2

_A/N: I'm going to apologize before this chapter even starts. I've been MIA for 2 months, but I swear I have an explanation. Since I last updated, I came down with the dreaded flu, which left me incapacitated for 2 weeks. Then, I left for vacation in another country where internet is not readily available. Once I came home, real life got in the way/ However, I'm back now and updates should come every week. I also need to apologize because I will be the first to admit that this chapter is nothing but filler. There are specific scenes I want to include in this story, but to just jump into them would cause an awkward flow. As I mentioned before, this fic won't be more than 10 chapters, so this will probably be the only filler of the series. Next posting will be much more interesting, I promise. _

* * *

Peeta stares angrily at the tray of cupcakes in front of him and lets out a long string of expletives before tossing all of them into the garbage can. They join the heap of the other thirty-six that had been thrown out just moments before.

Rory Hawthorne stands at the back door to the bakery, taking in the sight and clears his throat to let the blonde know that he's there. "Big waste, don't you think?" he asks, gazing longingly at the mound of pastries. Peeta looks up at Rory and gives him a half smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Used salt instead of sugar," the baker responds with a shrug. "Must be tired or something. My head's not in it today." The comment leads Rory to notice the deep circles underneath the other man's eyes and the curve of his shoulders as he hunches forward. The worry that had begun to develop from hearing the stories around town has increased exponentially. He opens the door and lets himself in. Grabbing two stools from the corner, he places them in the middle of the bakery and sits while indicating for Peeta to do the same.

The blonde drops down into the seat and lets out a tired sigh. He senses the direction Rory wants to lead the conversation and tries to make it clear that he doesn't want to follow.

"Should be okay, though," he begins, looking intently at the many trays already prepped for the day. "I got started early today."

"Peeta," Rory implores, choosing to ignore the words, "when's the last time you slept? You look half-dead."

"I don't know. Brain must fully dead…I can't remember." His tone conveys jest, but the brunette can hear the truth in the words.

There's an awkward silence that falls between the two of them. Peeta knows the question is coming and he doesn't want to answer it. He'll have to, though. He and Rory have developed a good friendship over the past five years, ever since he'd come back from the Capitol. There's little Peeta doesn't tell him.

"Is it when Katniss left?"

"Yeah, I guess." A dry chuckle escapes his lips as he leans back against the counter behind him for support. "It's sad isn't it? She's gone less than a week and I'm a complete disaster."

"I don't understand, Peeta." Rory's tone is soft and slightly disbelieving. "Things have been perfect with you two. What's happened?"

"I had an episode." He doesn't need to say much else. Rory understands. He was one of the people who'd been there to hold Peeta down when he had one of the first, and most manic, occurrences.

"But that doesn't make any sense," Rory says softly, brows furrowed. "You haven't had one in almost a year and you haven't had a _bad _one in almost four. What triggered it?"

"It doesn't matter." Peeta stands to kick the stool so that it slides back into the corner and picks up two metal trays to bring to the front shop of the bakery. "It's for the best that she's not with me anymore."

Rory rumbles in disapproval over the comment and follows the other man. "That's a stupid thing to say. Everybody knows the best thing for the both of you is to be together."

"I don't want to talk about it anymore, Rory." Peeta's intonation indicates that the subject should be dropped, but the younger man doesn't take the hint.

"There's talk, Peeta. There are so many stories. Set me straight." He takes a hold of one tray and sets down the other so that the baker can start putting the pastries in the display cases. The movements are practiced, natural. Many mornings have found the two in the same situation. The only difference is in the matching somber looks they both wear.

"There's always talk," Peeta says, rolling his eyes. "And you know better than to buy into any of it. Katniss and I are no longer together." His voice hitches slightly during the last sentence. "The reason why is something that's only between us, you know? Nobody else needs to be involved."

"Still, I find it hard to believe that Katniss would abandon you just because of this. I mean, you've proven to her time and time again that you'd do anything for her. I would think that the devotion you've shown her would be good enough to put some loyalty in her."

Peeta stops his movements and pulls back from the display, a cheese bun still in his hand. "Is that what you think?" he asks in surprise. "That she abandoned me?"

"That's what everybody thinks," he responds with a shrug. "Isn't that what happened?"

"No, it's not what happened," Peeta spits out angrily. "Katniss loves me and she's a good woman. She's not heartless and that is something you should be very well aware of!"

Rory puts down the trays and throws up his hands in surrender. "Peeta—"

He doesn't let the younger man finish and continues on his rant. "Furthermore, if she _had_ left me, she would've had every right to! You know what I'm capable of. She should have left me a long time ago."

He turns abruptly and shoves the pastry in his hand into the appropriate place. When Rory tries to speak again, Peeta's glare shuts his mouth almost immediately. He sighs and relents for the moment, picking up the tray once again. They work in silence as they move back and forth to bring more trays of pastries and breads to the front. When everything is put into its proper place, they carry the empty trays towards the back area.

"It's not that I think anything bad of Katniss," Rory says, finally breaking the silence. Peeta offers no indication that he's listening, but the other man knows that he is. "She's like a sister to me. But you have to understand, Peeta. Everybody knows her reputation for being skittish. You've always been so sure, even when she wasn't. We figured that if things were to end, it'd be because of her."

Peeta turns to face his friend and wipes his hands idly on his apron. He lets out a breath and offers a sad smile. "It was me. She tried to stay."

"She tried to stay and you made her go?" The incredulity is evident in Rory's voice. "That's the stupidest thing you've ever done!"

"I'm doing what's best for her!" Peeta shouts defensively, though a hint of regret manages to snake its way through the words. "It's what we do. We—"

"Protect each other, yes. I know the story. It's just dumb. We all trust that you'd never hurt her and we all trust that she could handle herself should you ever _try_ to hurt her. The woman could shoot a man between the eyes from hundreds of feet away. We're not scared for her."

Peeta shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "This time was different Rory." He lets out a long sigh. "You'll see. Trust me. This is the best thing."

Rory raises an eyebrow and shakes his head in annoyance. "Being married to Katniss has made you just as stubborn as she is." He sighs heavily and looks at his friend, finally choosing to relent and drop the subject.

Peeta senses the change and smiles in relief. "Almost forgot why you came this morning, did you?" He grins as Rory's eyes light up in realization.

He heads back to the door and picks up the forgotten game bag, bursting with clear signs of a successful hunt. "Six squirrels, seven rabbits, and some fowl." His voice has a hint of pride. "A good haul. What are you taking?"

"I'll take half the squirrels and the same number in rabbits." Peeta heads over to the bread shelf and begins to pull down the warm loaves, placing them into two separate bags. "I want you to give the squirrels and one of the rabbits to Katniss." He places the packages of bread in front of Rory: one with seven large loaves and the other with three.

"Take this to her, too, if you could," he continues, pointing to the smaller bag. "I'd do it myself, but we both know she wouldn't want anything from me."

Rory nods, but eyes the larger bag warily. "All right. But you need to take a loaf back from my share. You gave me seven and you're only taking six from me."

"The extra is payment for having to deal with, what I'm sure will be, a very angry Katniss." He chuckles warmly, but the way he says it leaves little room for dispute.

The brunette thinks to argue, but decides against it. The last thing Peeta needs is another yelling match. "Thanks," he grins appreciatively. "Where is she now?"

Peeta juts his chin out in the direction of the meadows. "At the house in the Seam. We haven't used it since we rebuilt it last summer. Since Katniss's mom isn't ready to come back..." He doesn't bother to finish the sentence. Another silence follows in remembrance of Prim. Five years and it still hurts to think of her.

"I'm surprised you haven't seen her," Peeta states after several moments have passed.

Rory shrugs while loading the bread into a separate, cleaner bag he carries with him for this occasion. Throwing both over his shoulder, he rights himself and shrugs his shoulders, a smirk on his lips.

"You know Katniss. She's good at staying hidden. Even with a bum leg." Peeta snorts in assent and follows Rory as he exits the front of the store. The bell chimes as the younger man shouts his goodbyes. Flipping the sign to indicate that they are open, Peeta heads back inside to wait for his assistant's arrival and for the inevitable rush of the morning crowd.

Alone with nothing to interrupt his thoughts, Peeta realizes just how exhausted he is. His whole body feels heavy, like he's slowly losing the battle with gravity. He needs to sleep, he knows this. But every time he shuts his eyes, he's haunted by images of that horrific night. The fact that the space next to him is empty makes everything worse.

He's taken to coming to the bakery in the early hours of the morning, before the sun even peeks into the sky. If he can't sleep, he might as well be productive.

* * *

When the bell rings to indicate a customer, it's a welcome sound. Peeta shakes his head to clear the thoughts and throws himself into his work.

By the time the last customer leaves the store, the exhaustion leaves Peeta practically immobile. He can barely get himself out of his chair and only manages an apologetic smile as his assistant moves about cleaning up.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Peeta sighs, drooping even lower into the chair. "I'll get up in a minute and help you out."

Harry straightens and smiles, brushing his black hair away from his forehead and pushing his glasses up his nose. "It's no trouble. I'm almost done anyway." He pulls out the last of the leftover pastries and puts them into the waiting boxes. "What do you want me to do with these tonight?"

Peeta finally pushes himself up and scrutinizes the boxes on the counter. "There's not enough to give out. I don't want to give to one kid and not the other. Why don't you take them home for you and your family?" Harry starts to protest, but Peeta holds up a hand before he can continue. "Look, I'm sure that young wife of yours could use some extra food now that you two have a new mouth to feed."

Harry smiles with gratitude and stacks the three boxes before sliding them into his arms. "Thanks, Peeta. Ginny will appreciate it. The baby's making her crazy, crying all day. She'll appreciate the sweets." He tips his head in farewell and carefully heads out the back door of the bakery.

Left alone, Peeta starts to busy himself by checking the ovens and making sure everything is put in place. He tidies up the utensils and is about to rack up some pans when the bell from the front of the store rings.

"We're closed," Peeta calls to the intruder without looking to see who has entered. It isn't uncommon for the occasional odd person to walk in at the end of the day, hoping that he might have something left to sell. Footsteps stomp toward him and, before he can fully turn around, a loaf of bread hits him squarely in the head.

"What the—?" Peeta rubs at the sore spot and glances up to meet a pair of fiery grey eyes. "Katniss? What the hell was that for?"

"You don't get to do this, Peeta Mellark!" she shouts, throwing the bag containing the rest of the bread at him. The larger, heavier, smellier bag filled with game quickly follows. "You don't get to leave me and then follow up with these stupid acts of kindness. I don't need your charity." There are angry tears in her eyes and his first thought is to comfort her, but he stays rooted in place.

"I thought you could use some things," he starts, feeling pained and guilty that he's upset her so much, "since you can't really hunt right now."

"What I could use and what I can do is not of any concern to you," she spits out angrily. "How do you think this makes me feel? You kick me out, you tell me we can't be together, and then you try to take care of me?" Her chest heaves as she sucks in a breath and her hands clench into tight fists.

"If you're going to abandon me, then you can't have any part in my life," she continues quietly. "Don't confuse me, Peeta." The last part has a tone of sorrow that pulls at his heart, but he just nods.

"I'm sorry. You're right. I shouldn't…try to stick around." He knows he shouldn't say the next couple of words, but he can't stop himself. He needs to explain his feelings. "But Katniss, please know that I'm not trying to abandon you. I don't ever want you to think that's what I'm doing. " He can feel the heat radiating from her and there's an eerie silence before she begins her tirade.

"Didn't abandon me? How can you even _look_ at me when you say that?" She lunges forward and shoves at his chest. "Not trying—" Her anger seems to frazzle her and she can't quite find the right words. "Not abandoning—" She punches at his arms, his stomach, any place she can get to. "You're _awful_. How can you say that to me?"

He tries to grab her, but she's quick and moves to the side before her palm connects with the side of his face. Surprise has him recoiling, but she doesn't let up. She shoves at him again. "You don't get to be the good guy in this, Peeta! You don't get to play martyr. You're not giving me up for my own good. You're giving me up because you're weak and you're scared."

She cries as she says this and it kills him. The tears are full of anger and grief. She continues to push at him and scream profanities, all of which he deserves. He allows her to release all of her anger and he says nothing. What can he say? Anything that comes out of his mouth would be nothing but repetition.

It seems like hours pass before she tires herself out and screams herself hoarse. She sniffles softly and wipes at her tear-stained cheeks. She stands there awkwardly for a moment, almost as though she has just realized where she is. He can tell that the fight has worn her out. Her stance softens as she bows her head and sighs heavily. Without saying anything else, she doesn't even look at him before walking out of the bakery.

He quickly moves to follow when he realizes that she's walking back to towards the meadow, her footsteps slightly awkward on her bad leg. Is that how she got here? She could've hurt herself coming so far.

"Katniss, wait." She stops, but doesn't move to face him. "You can't walk all the way back. Let me call the town car."

She turns to stare at him incredulously, affronted that after all that, those are the only words he chooses to say to her. She shakes her head and moves again.

"I walked here," she says, keeping her face forward. "I can walk back."

"Katniss—"

"I don't want your help!" she barks. Her shouts catch the attention of several passersby, who stop to watch the two. She opts to ignore them and fixes an irate glare on him. The look terrifies him because he can't recall a time when she'd ever looked at him with such hatred.

"You are not the good guy, Peeta." Her voice is low and filled with loathing. "You can call it whatever you want, but I call it abandonment." The townspeople whisper fervently, unable to contain their excitement over this piece of news. "You broke us." She swivels on her heel and glowers at a person who stands in her way before shuffling down the cobbled road.

The people watch her leave and then turn their attention to him. He smiles uneasily and hastily makes a retreat back into his shop. Inside, he locks up and draws the shades to avoid people staring at him. He would have to remain here for several minutes before leaving if he was going to avoid questions from the crowd. Choosing to disregard the rest of his tasks, he hops up onto a counter to wait it out.

Though he doesn't blame her for being angry, a part of Peeta wishes that Katniss could understand that he is handling this as best he can. He doesn't doubt that if the roles were reversed, she would probably do the same thing. The decisions they've made in the past have never been easy ones, but they've always been made for the benefit of the other person.

He has approached the situation as rationally as he can. These hallucinations may never stop. They make him dangerous and unpredictable. As a husband, he is supposed to make sure that his wife feels stable and safe; the Capitol has seen to it that this will never be the case. He's come very close to killing her and, while he knows that Rory and Katniss are right when they say she can take care of herself, he is also hyper aware that she should never _have_ to. No woman should ever have to live with a man knowing that, at any moment, he may attack her.

He knows that abruptly dissolving their marriage is cruel and harsh, but he also understands that if he really sat down and discussed things with her, she would talk him out of his decision and nothing would change. They'd continue on the same path.

And then what?

The same vicious cycle? And what if they ever had kids? What then? What if he hurt them, too?

His resolve steels again. This is the right thing. Eventually, things will work out. She'll find another man, a good man, to love her. She'll be happy.

He pointedly ignores the piece of his mind that tells him he's making a terrible mistake. The part that whispers, 'what about you, Peeta…what about you?'

* * *

_A/N: Still looking for a beta, so if anybody is interested or knows of a good one that's taking on stories now, please point me in their direction! There was a little cameo in this chapter from another one of my favorite series, so I hope my fellow HP fans picked it up. Next chapter will contain more pertinent parts to the story and will also have rather, ahem, adult themes. If you're not interested in smut, please don't read, but in all fairness, I gave this story an M rating for a reason. Thanks all! Reviews are most MOST welcome :)_


	4. Chapter 3

_A/N:Re-posting. Something was wonky with the format. Sorry about that!  
_

_Warning! Here there be smut! Although it's not so much as a warning as a "Yey, here's some smut!" ;) If you don't like it, don't read it! Apologies, because this chapter has been a long time coming. From this point on, things start to pick up. Still not sure on how I want this to end: I have 3 different scenarios in mind. I'll eventually go with what feels right. Probably another 4-5 chapters. _

_A heartfelt thanks to my beta, LolaBleu, for her work with this story. Her notes were an immense help that helped me churn out a chapter I'm particularly proud of. Happy reading! As always, reviews are like a life-giving drug._

* * *

The rain thunders outside Peeta's window, a sound usually welcome when he's trying to fall asleep. Tonight, it does little to assuage his anxiety. Ever since Katniss had come to the bakery two weeks ago, what little sleep he had been able to get before was now a distant memory.

Now that it's been made clear that he needs to back off, he is in a constant state of worry over her: whether she's eating right or how her leg is healing. He knows that Rory will do what he can to take care of her, but the fight at the bakery has made him realize that he just can't be a part of her life in any way. Especially if he's going to follow through with the decisions he's made.

Still, it makes him feel hollow knowing that he can be no more important to her than a stranger on the street.

As he lies in bed, thoughts of her begin to play. Random fleeting moments of the life they'd shared together: their first kiss, their wedding day.

The images are innocent at first, but as his mind wanders, the pictures become increasingly explicit. They start with just flashes of her naked body: the curve of her thigh, the twin dimples that bookend the base of her spin, the swell of her breasts. It isn't until he sees scenarios play out in his mind that he starts to feel the familiar hot ache.

He can see practically feel her legs wrapped around him, her back flush against the wall. He can almost hear their moans, feel her tightness covering him, squeezing until he releases into her.

Unable to help himself, he moves his hand down his bare stomach and under the waistband of his pants to trail his fingers along his growing arousal. He caresses it lightly, gasping when his index finger grazes the slit at the tip. The feathery touches elicit a soft moan from his lips. He moves to cup his hand around the shaft and squeezes firmly, jerking the sensitive flesh. It twitches at his touch and he begins to stroke himself. He allows the thought of Katniss to envelop him as his hand increases its pace, pumping with quick fluid movements.

Just as he is about to reach his inevitable release, a loud bang jolts him from his state. Stilling his hand and sitting upright, he listens intently to see if he can make out the sound. There is nothing but silence and, for a moment, he thinks he may have imagined the whole thing.

Slowly leaning back against the pillows, his body starts to relax once more before he hears the noise again. It's clear now that the sound is coming from his front door. Letting out an irritated sigh, he stands to readjust himself and picks up a shirt off the floor to throw on.

Heading quickly down the steps, he grumbles inwardly, almost positive that Haymitch will be on the other side. He's the only one to ever show up this late, and it's usually for a drunken favor that could always wait until morning.

He stalls for a moment when his hand touches the doorknob, contemplating just going back upstairs and climbing into bed. When the knob rattles again, he sighs and unlocks it before throwing it open.

He clearly surprises the hunched figure on the other side, who falls forward and almost knocks him over. Peeta bends down to help upright the person and can barely contain his shock when he sees that it's his wife.

"Katniss!" he exclaims. "How did you get here? What are you doing?"

She seems rather dazed when she looks at him, as though she is lost in her own world. Not answering his question, she instead holds up a key dangling from a long silver chain. "You changed the locks, Peeta."

He shifts uncomfortably and can feel his cheeks flush with embarrassment. "Yeah, I've been kinda out of it lately. Lost the keys and had to call the locksmith to change the locks."

The brunette sighs visibly with relief and nods her head. "I thought it was another way you were keeping me out." Her lips quiver slightly before she purses them together in a thin line and stares at him resolutely.

"Katniss—" Peeta sighs, "I wouldn't…" Deciding against starting another argument, he takes a breath and quickly changes the topic. "What are you doing here?"

It's Katniss's turn to be uncomfortable as she fiddles with the key in her hands. "The nightmares were so horrible tonight, Peeta," she quietly confesses. "I woke up and you weren't there and—" she stops short, her voice warbling as her breath hitches slightly. Clearing her throat, she looks back up at him. "I just need you, Peeta. I didn't even think and…" she trails off, her gaze moving down to her feet.

His first instinct is to pull her inside, but her words from their last fight stop him. Letting her in would be the continuation of a mind game he didn't want to play. "Katniss, you need to remember what you told me. That I needed to stop inserting myself into your life. If I let you in…it just…you can't come in." He tries to be firm, resolute. But his confidence sounds artificial, even to his own ears.

Katniss stares at him blankly, as though she doesn't understand what he's trying to say. "But you're always there for me after my nightmares." She's completely unguarded when she says it, the sadness in her voice tugging painfully at his heart.

He thinks to let her in, to concede, but a glance at her wrist brings a quick flash of bruised flesh. He remembers then why he's doing this, why this is important. "I was. But I can't be anymore." His manner is harsh, unyielding. He pushes away the voice in his head that insists that he's not this kind of man, that he could never be this cruel.

"But, why?"

When she asks this, he knows that her night terrors must have scared her more than usual. His wife is a strong woman, stronger than many, but the nightmares always bring out the most vulnerable parts of her. He hates himself then, imagining her terrified with nobody there to guard her.

He forces himself to remember the bruises, the blood. He keeps the awful images in his head. It's the only way he's going to get through this.

"Because I am a man who is capable of killing you in your sleep!" he barks. "I can make those nightmares real." It's like he's having an out of body experience. Never did he think he could say these things to her. "Look, I'm sorry you're scared, but I'm not the one you can come to anymore, so stop. You said it yourself at the bakery. I can't be a part of your life. Going forward, I won't be." _Even if I desperately want to._

His words seem to snap her out of her daze and her eyes flicker with a familiar fire. The look she conjures is blistering. "Peeta Mellark, forever the sacrificial lamb. I forgot, this is all for my own good, right?" He doesn't say anything because he knows she doesn't expect an answer. "Unbelievable. Fine, I'll leave." She doesn't move at first, seemingly sure that he wouldn't turn her away.

Her eyes bore into him, willing him to stand down, but he doesn't budge. He can't.

After a moment of silence, she shakes her head and lets out a derisive snort. As she turns to head down the stairs, Peeta lets out the breath he's been holding and pinches the bridge of his nose. He wills away the tears that threaten to spill, believing that he is making the right choice.

That is, until he sees lighting ignite the sky and the rain falling harder to the ground. His thoughts fight a war in his head as he takes in her soaked clothes and matted hair. The final straw is when he sees her stop for a moment to readjust her injured leg.

"Wait!" he calls over the rain. She stills and turns on her heel, gazing up at him through the wet curls that hang over her eyes.

_Stop, Peeta, stop._ The rational voice in his head screams at him, begging him not to undo everything, not to give in. He ignores it and runs towards her, not caring that the water is soaking through his clothes. He realizes that this makes him a terribly weak man. He's giving her mixed signals. Hell, he's giving himself mixed signals. But he just can't let her walk alone this late, in this weather. Not when the sky is unleashing its wrath onto the earth.

He grabs her gently by the wrist and tugs her towards the house. "Come inside. You can sleep here until morning when the rain lets up. I don't want you to get sick."

She wants to rebuff him, he can tell, but he weaves his fingers through hers and squeezes softly. Katniss stares down at their intertwined hands and relents, following him inside the house. This is what she wants after all, what she came here for.

Once the door is closed behind them, Peeta pulls the afghan draped over the couch and wraps it around her. "I'm going to get you something to wear, okay?" She gives him a slow nod, unmoving from her position in the foyer. He places a hand on the small of her back and guides her towards the living room. "Sit, Katniss, relax. I'll be right back." He rubs a few soothing circles before sprinting up the steps to the bedroom. He quickly changes his own clothing before pulling out his warmest pants and sweater from one of his drawers. He grabs the towel hanging over his desk chair and heads out the door.

Running back down, he finds her curled up on the loveseat, her head lying against one of the large pillows. He steps forward and she snaps up to give him her attention. He hands her the towel and places the clothing on the cushion next to her.

"Thank you," she says softly, bringing the towel to her head to dry her hair.

He sits on the chair opposite her and watches for a moment as she squeezes the water from the long, black tendrils. She tilts her head to the side and he can see the perfect white skin of her neck in the moonlight. It's amazing how this woman is always so incredibly beautiful. He cannot think of a single moment where she has looked anything but perfect. Katniss catches him staring and a smirk plays on her lips; she clearly knows the effect she has on him.

Peeta clears his throat nervously and scratches at an imaginary itch on the back of his head. "So, how did you get here?"

Katniss bends forward to pull off her boots and wet socks. "The car service. The jerk wouldn't drive up to the house. Punishment, I think, for making him come out this late. I had to run down the path in this crazy rain."

"We have plenty of umbrellas in that house, Katniss," he admonishes, his heart constricts at the thought of her catching something awful because of this.

Katniss stills her movements, but keeps her head bent down to her feet. "My mind wasn't exactly in the right place, Peeta. You know how it is with the nightmares. They make us crazy. We don't think straight." She lays the socks across the armrest to dry and places the boots at the corner behind the couch. She turns back to him and lets out a sigh. "I was rather focused on getting to you."

Her words make him feel even guiltier. He chooses to remain silent and watches as she moves to stand up. Her hands shift to the hem of her shirt and he realizes what she's about to do.

"Oh, he says dumbly. "I-I'll turn around, so that you have privacy." He turns his head the other way, shifting at the uncomfortable tightness in his pants. He wills himself to think of as many non-sexual thoughts that he can.

His mind is so focused that he doesn't notice she's moved until she's standing in front of him, her lithe body clad in nothing but a dark bra and panties. Her wet hair falls in curly tendrils as she moves forward to cup his face with her hands.

"Katniss," he whispers, trying to keep his eyes focused on her face. "You should put on the clothes. I don't want you to get sick." His words are arbitrary. He's not even sure of what he's saying.

She ignores his words and grasps his hands, placing them on her waist so that his palms are flush against her skin. "You keep me warm." Running her fingers through his hair, she places a soft kiss on his forehead before moving her mouth towards his ear. "Touch me, Peeta." Her voice is husky and breathy, causing him to harden completely.

He should have seen this coming. If there's anything Katniss has learned from their time together, it's the art of seducing him and bending him to her will. He knows the way she thinks. While he recognizes that she didn't come here with a set plan, he's fully aware that Katniss uses physical intimacy to ground herself, to come back to reality.

He shakes his head and turns away, but doesn't remove his hands. As much as he knows he has to, he can't bring himself to pull away from her. "No, Katniss. We can't do this. You know we can't."

Katniss's hands wrap around his forearms and she steps back several paces until he's forced to take a standing position. She leans in again, her hair grazing his chest, and rests her chin on his shoulder. Her fingers leave a ticklish path down his body as she grips his hips firmly.

"Touch me, Peeta," she says again, even softer than before. "Please, just touch me."

He clenches his jaw so tightly, he's sure that his teeth will shatter under the pressure. Taking a deep breath, he wrenches his hands away from her and puts his hands back at his side. "Katniss, I can't. We have to stop."

She pretends not to hear him and places a feathery kiss against his shoulder, eliciting a contented moan from his lips. Nuzzling her nose against his neck, she turns her head and places a firmer kiss against the sensitive part of his jaw. She opens her mouth slightly and flits her tongue against the imprint.

The break in his resolve is instantaneous and he hisses, letting his hands roam over the soft skin of her body. Just minutes before, he had imagined this. Had thoughts of doing this exact thing. Her mouth against him proves to be his undoing. One moves to the band of her panties as he allows a few fingers to dip below the line. The other draws up her side to the nape of her neck where he gathers some of her hair and tugs gently. Her hum of approval increases the heat inside of him and he pulls her head back so he can have full access to her lips. He takes note of the hazy lust in her eyes and knows that his must mirror the same. Placing a chaste kiss against her mouth, he pulls away when she tries to deepen it.

Her grunt of frustration excites him and he twitches in pleasure when she pulls his bottom lip and bites firmly on the flesh. She smiles at his sharp intake of breath before she captures his mouth for searing kiss. Her tongue dives into him, demanding entrance that he is only too happy to provide. He had almost forgotten what this felt like. The memories couldn't capture ten percent of what he is feeling in this moment.

When she finally pulls away for air, looking at her almost causes his undoing. Her hair mussed from his hands, her lips swollen from his mouth. Every bit of common sense he had been retaining has completely disappeared. He falls back on the chair behind him and pulls her until she's perched on his lap with her legs on either side of him. He attacks her mouth again, making sure to take his time tasting her. He trails kisses across her collarbone down to the area between her breasts.

She moans in his ear, and even though he didn't think it was possible, he becomes even more aroused from the sound. He moves one of the black cups to the side and takes her in his mouth, his tongue swirling on the sensitive nipple of her breast. She lets out a gratified whimper and grinds herself down onto him, letting him feel her warmth rub against him. He bites gently down and is rewarded with a deep guttural moan.

Katniss jerks his head away from hers and the half-lidded stare she offers makes him feel completely crazy. "I've missed you so much, Peeta." Threading her fingers in his hair, she rubs her thumb against the back of his head. She brushes her mouth over his before standing up.

He groans from the loss of her body against his, but growls in a completely different way when she drops to her knees in front of him. He watches as she pulls his pants down carefully over the tent caused by his erection. She places a soft kiss on the tip over the fabric of his underwear and his head drops back against the cushion with a heavy thud. The anticipation is too much.

She then pulls the cotton down as well until she's freed him from his garments. There's very little warning when she places her mouth over him, her tongue slithering out to lick at the sensitive underside.

"Katniss," he hisses, his fingers gripping her hair at the roots. She moves down to engulf him completely and he cries out, clutching hard at the tendrils in his hands. Katniss moans with him in her mouth and he pulls harder, knowing that she likes it when he is more aggressive. He uses his hand to guide her along, his moans growing louder with every movement. Her hand wraps around his base as she glides her lips along the shaft.

When he feels himself tighten, he knows that he's too close and he pulls her away from him. "Not yet," he pants, "not yet."

She opens her mouth to protest, but he shushes her with a kiss and stands. He pulls her up until he has her in his arms. She wraps her legs around him and doesn't break contact with his mouth. Kicking off his pants and underwear, he places his hands on her bottom and squeezes firmly.

He carries her to the coffee table in the living room and lays her down against it, the cool glass fogging from the heat of her body. Leaning over her with arms on either side of her, his lips latch onto her neck and he sucks as hard as he can, knowing he's going to see a mark come morning. She moans in pleasure, her nails grazing his forearms, digging in firmly when he bites down on her neck.

"More," she whimpers. "Don't stop." He almost laughs at her request because he knows that he couldn't stop touching her right now if he tried. Straightening for a moment, he quickly takes off his shirt and discards it over his shoulder.

He moves downward, trailing kisses along her breasts and her stomach until he reaches the waistline of her underwear. Without preamble, he roughly pulls them off down her legs until she's completely exposed to him.

He kisses her on each side at the junctions of her thighs and blows softly against her most sensitive area. Her breath hitches as she silently begs for him to touch her there. He takes a finger and runs it along the sensitive bundle of nerves before slipping the tip inside to test her need for him.

Katniss grips the table and pushes herself towards him, hoping to get more. He quickly pulls back and she whimpers in disapproval. Peeta waits for her to still before he starts again, using the same movements as before, but this time, rewarding her with two fingers inside her core. She arches her back and grinds against him, her arousal evident.

Using his free hand, he pushes her down by her stomach before pressing his mouth against her. She practically cries when his tongue slides out to lap at the nub. Her body spasms, but he holds her firmly against the table. Katniss's grip on the sides becomes vice-like, her knuckles glowing white from the intensity. She throws her head back, his name falling from her lips like a mantra.

When he can tell that she's close, he abruptly stops his ministrations and pulls at her legs until she's moved down and the only parts of her on still the table are her head and torso. The table is low to the ground, so her body is at the perfect height.

Before he continues, he stops to take in the beautiful creature before him. Her whole body is flushed with heat and excitement and her eyes bore into him as she pants with desire. Katniss moves her legs to open herself more to him. So completely loving. So completely trusting.

He cups her face with his hand and grazes his thumb over her cheek. "I love you so much," he says softly. "More than anything else in this world."

She begins to return the sentiment, but her words get garbled and lost when he brings his tip to rest against her opening. He pushes forward, reveling in every inch as he fills her completely. When he's pushed himself to the hilt, he stills so that he can enjoy the feeling of her muscles clenching around him.

"Please, Peeta," Katniss moans, practically begging. "Please."

He swivels his hips and pulls back slightly before thrusting slowly into her. His pace is languid, slow. He wants to relish every moment he's inside her. She pushes her hips upward, eager to match his movements. Peeta watches with lustful eyes as she bites her lip in pleasure, her tongue peeking out to wet her lips. He can never get over how good she looks when he's pleasuring her. Knowing that he can do this to her, make her so pliant and wanton, it stimulates and heightens all of his senses.

He begins to pick up his pace, propelling himself forward as he plunges into her. Her moans become fevered and high-pitched when his hand finds its way to her sensitive nub and rubs in tandem with his thrusts.

Her gasps become louder as her thighs shake and she quivers in unadulterated yearning, nearing her climax. "Peeta," she wails, her body arching up until she has her arms wrapped around him. She moves until she's on his thighs, pushing him to sit back against his haunches. She plants her feet on either side of him and grinds herself down onto him, her nails clawing red marks down his back.

Peeta yanks her head back and bids her to look at him. He kisses her hard and fierce, his tongue fighting for dominance in her mouth. Pulling away, he locks eyes with her again and bids her to keep them open.

"Come for me, Katniss," he growls, placing his hands on her waist to push her harder onto him. After a few more pumps, she cries out and climaxes with a hitched breath and a whisper of his name.

Hearing her release spurs him on as he slams into her until he reaches his peak, emptying himself inside her.

They both take several seconds to regain their bearings and catch their breath. Her head drops down on his shoulder as she wraps herself around him. He nuzzles her hair and rubs her back, basking in the post-orgasmic bliss.

Finally, after a few minutes, he has to lift her off him to straighten his legs; the previous position was causing him to cramp up. Once he's shaken out the pain, he looks up at her and instantly realizes the mistake they've made.

The regret and guilt is so palpable, it's hard for him not to choke on it. She's regarding him with nothing but love and adoration and it makes him feel like the worst human being in the world.

She smiles warmly at him and offers her hand. "Let's go to bed, Peeta." Her form is so open, so trusting. He wants her to stay, would want nothing more than that. But no good is going to come from what they just did and from her staying the night.

Telling her to leave would make him a selfish monster, one of those men who takes pleasure and gives nothing back. But he can imagine that the morning will go so much worse. He gazes at her and takes a deep breath. With the way she's looking at him, he really has no choice but to take her hand and lead her upstairs.

Each step he takes makes him despise himself a little more.

He has been fooling himself into believing that he is strong enough to let her go, to put her needs above his own. But tonight has shown him that he nothing but weak.

When Katniss climbs into bed and snuggles into her usual spot, a part of him wants to run as far away as he can. Being this close to her means that he could cause her harm. But having to explain to her to her in the morning that nothing's been fixed...he's afraid it will hurt her more than his hands ever could. The stress makes his head pound and he's filled with a debilitating sense of dread.

"Peeta," she calls, "don't think. Just come to bed."

Hesitantly, he slides under the covers, careful not to touch her. She instantly curls herself into him and, feeling his rigidity, rubs softly at his stomach until his muscles begin to relax.

The ache in his head ebbs and his body slowly calms down. It's good to have her hold him; it fills the void that had formed the day she moved out. Though he hates to admit it, he wants this. He's giving in to his weaknesses because he loves her. Despite not being worthy, he still loves her.

Peeta eases himself back against the pillows and lets out a long, tired breath. He will let himself enjoy her presence.

As they lay in bed together though, with Katniss's slow breathing filling the room, Peeta realizes that this is the first time he's been unable to fall asleep with her in his arms.

* * *

_I had to cut this chapter to one scene because I didn't want to drag it out too long. I hope you enjoyed the smutty goodness and while I loved writing it, this wasn't a gratuitous scene. There's a reason for it that you'll all find out in due time (and by due time, I mean the next chapter!). _


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